Foreward: Pre-Riding Karlos Rodriguez Bernart's Huracan 300
The Huracan 300 has been on my to do list for a while--ever since I saw this photo on bikepacking.com. It looked ridiculous...but unique. Given that it is entirely in central Florida, it also seemed like the perfect long distance winter ride.
Then I saw my friend of a friend Joshua Forester, who I had met on a group ride once, had posted on the TNGA Facebook group that he was interested in doing either TNGA or the Huracan 300. I sent him a message and got an invitation to join him for riding the [in]famous Floridian bikepacking route. I don’t have a car, but he has a vehicle that could accommodate multiple bicycles. With the logistics problem out of the way and the timing being at the tail end of winter break (and a few weeks before the official Huracan 300 grand depart), I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Plus, I am always down for getting to know people better through sufferfests. He also invited his future brother-in-law Cabe Crisler. And thus, our group was formed.
Our initial plans were a little lofty for fully loaded mountain biking: we intended to cover the route in two and a half days--140 miles the first and second days, 60 the last.
Alas, our group started out as three but finished as two. Our initial plans were a little lofty for fully loaded mountain biking: we intended to cover the route in two and a half days--140 miles the first and second days, 60 the last. That might have been closer to the kind of pace that the actual Huracan 300 racers go at, riding all day with minimal sleep. It became clear at 9pm the first day that the trip would have to be extended to three and a half days. After all, we were going for more of a spirited pace with a full nights worth of sleep and glamping level dinners.
Day 1
Starting in Shangri La Campground, a paradise of a campsite in the backyard of a subdivision, Joshua, Cabe, and I began breaking down the campsite and finalizing our rigs. If we had had a fourth person with a titanium bike, then we would have covered the frame material spectrum. Joshua was riding his Specialized Epic EVO, a carbon full suspension bike, with Revelate bags full of potatoes, sausage, and quesadilla ingredients. Cabe was riding a steel hardtail Salsa El Mariachi with very comfy looking aero bars that made Joshua and me jealous. I was riding my aluminum hardtail Specialized Chisel, newly equipped with dynamo lights and a Revelate frame bag, which sported a zipper so worn I just kept the bag open the entire trip.
The day began with a combination of single track and Silver Comet-like rails to trails paths. I was really impressed with how many greenways this route hit and never expected Florida to have so many. The single track was unique; stone statues watched us as we stopped every mile for the first five miles to readjust our bags so our tires didn’t destroy them. Florida in January is still lush and definitely the best time to visit. I didn’t even need a bug net at night to sleep.
Cabe was slaying the single track and setting the best lines; it was pretty clear who the local was.
Cabe was slaying the single track and setting the best lines; it was pretty clear who the local was. On the greenways we morphed from line chasing to pace lining. We covered a lot of ground while still allowing ourselves time to converse. Both having raced the Huracan 300 years before and having recently trained on different parts of the course while preparing for our ride, Cabe had covered many route segments before and was giving much needed beta. He recalled one time where he rode through the night around Lake Apopka, and could see the eyes of gators off to the sides of the trail. Things were going pretty well, and the hype to see gators--at least in my mind--was real.
During the Huracan 300, we stirred up a nest of hornets. Cabe Crisler comments on the situation.
About thirty-something miles in, we encountered our first trial. We were eating lunch when Joshua (presumably) startled a nest of hornets and proceeded to run straight into the food bag that I was holding in my hand, sending a bunch of Kroger brand chex mix and sour patch kids flying into the air. I quickly followed suit, making sure to grab my bike in the process. Cabe on the other hand had to go the opposite direction, and his bike ended up being swarmed with hornets.
Good Times at Kevin’s The Way Station
The next long stretch of gravel was pretty rolling and long. We were almost fifty miles in, and I was pretty hungry. I had flown into Atlanta the day we went out for this ride, so my cabinets had been pretty light on food. My plan was to just enjoy the weight savings and restock at gas stations/eateries wherever we encountered them. Bikepacking route makers: please please include more waffle houses on your routes.
At this point in the day, I was also running low on my three liters of water. Fortunately, we ran across Kevin’s Place, a motorcycle bar with some pretty tasty burgers. This was the exact refuel that everyone needed, but it was pretty clear that the task set out before us was a little harder than we had been anticipating. Cabe said he had been going a little too hard at the beginning and wasn’t feeling the greatest, but he wanted to at least reach this next section of single track in Croom Wildlife Management Area before he made the decision of whether or not to bail.
A dozen road miles later and we had finally hit our first long stretch of single track. This single track was less dense than the single track we had encountered at the beginning of the day. There were also loose patches of sand that were usually strategically placed in corners.
Of course, in bikepacking, even bailing isn’t easy. He still had thirty something miles to go to make it back before his two hour drive home.
Our fears became an accepted reality as the 80F temps and uninterrupted rays from the Death Star continued to beat on us--Cabe was still not feeling great, and we had to part ways at a splitting point between the greenway that basically went back to the Shangri La Campground and another fifteen miles of single track immediately ahead. Of course, in bikepacking, even bailing isn’t easy. He still had thirty something miles to go to make it back before his two hour drive home. We said our goodbyes, and Cabe swore his vengeance on the route.
Joshua and I had driven to Ocala from Atlanta: we weren’t leaving Florida until we completed this route. The next 20 miles were my favorite. As I said to Joshua, these miles were characterized by violent downs, and equally violent ups. We had hit the aptly-named Drunken Monkey Trail just as the sun had set, and oh boy what a trail. The gpx route was a mess, and we had no idea if we were going in the right direction because there were so many damn switchbacks. All the while I’m just laughing and screaming at how ludicrous this trail is. I would deathgrip the bars with no braking going down each steep hill so I could preserve momentum to get up the equally steep uphill. Joshua did something similar, but the noise of his fully-loaded handlebar and seat bags’ tire rub replaced my screams and laughs. By hills, these inclines and declines were so rapid as to take less than a few seconds each, but the grade was always at least 20% or more. It was all so absurd to do on fully loaded mountain bikes; this seemed like a trail for dirt jumpers. If I ever go back to Florida, I’d hit this trail up again.
Finally, the first day ended and we reached our campsite next to scenic I-75. Joshua pulled out a pot and spatula from his Revelate “pizza bag”, and we made full-on quesadillas.
Day 2
Day 2 started off on the right foot: going two miles in the wrong direction during a long stretch of greenway.
Day 2 started off on the right foot: going two miles in the wrong direction during a long stretch of greenway. Once back on course, we hit our first resupply, a QuickTrip. There, we got the golden bikepacking energy food according to my idol Lael Wilcox: milk. Refilled with at least 1000 calories of chocolate milk, we went into the next section.
Within the first five miles of biking in Green Swamp Wilderness Preserve, it was clear that we were in good company. Hunters were chilling in their trucks pretty much all along the route, looking for what we assumed to be boars. We were feeling a little naked without hunter orange vests...but we were already there, and it wasn’t like any of the hunters were giving us vests out of concern.
Reid Exiting Stream Crossing
Here we also hit our first sand pit and our first river crossing (of many to come). I found my groove (literally) in the sand, thanks to my Eagle cassette, but it still was slow going. At first, I tried to keep dry during the stream crossings. Unlike Joshua, I had forgotten to bring a set of stream crossing shoes. But we found out later that it was all a moot point anyways, we would soon be drenched.
The heavens opened up and dumped inches of rain on us over the course of three hours. Fortunately, Floridian rain in January is nowhere near as hypothermia inducing as it is in Georgia. It was cold, but we stayed warm, and our stowed stuff remained mostly dry. Joshua’s touchscreen phone was unusable for navigation in the rain, so we both switched to our trusty Garmin GPSs.
A good assumption we found to be true on the Huracan 300 is that if the terrain is too easy, then you are probably off course. Often the route would be an underwater section of sandy single track, with a perfectly ridable road paralleling the entire way. Karlos, we discovered, was a curator of roads of only the most sophisticated character.
Using the coarse-grained GPS tracks, we lost the route several times. A good assumption we found to be true on the Huracan 300 is that if the terrain is too easy, then you are probably off course. Often the route would be an underwater section of sandy single track, with a perfectly ridable road paralleling the entire way. Karlos, we discovered, was a curator of roads of only the most sophisticated character.
In theme with that, just as we had exited the Green Swamp, we found ourselves on a paved road. Moments like these always merit skepticism, and sure enough, not three miles in we found ourselves staring down a straight road with what seemed like an endless amount of puddles. At this point, since we were both soaked, we just rode straight through the puddles. Most of them were rideable, some in a more loony toons/Danny Macaskill fashion than others.
After hitting a long stretch of road, we stopped at the first gas station we found to take a break and fuel up. Our current pace would put us in the middle of Minneola around night. Joshua found a bushwhack to a clearing next to the Lake Apopka Trail via satellite maps and we hoped that it would work out. Shortly after leaving the gas station, the sun finally returned after being shrouded by clouds.
It was on this stretch that we saw a bunch of large fields with orange trees, and probably had the most bizarre/tragic event of the entire trip. I’m sure all cyclists know the pains of dealing with dogs on country roads. We found that most of them were fenced in on the Huracan 300, which was pretty great. However, most would still run up to the gates to bark at you. One such dog did so, but did so with such grace, that it ended up sprinting straight into a stone pillar in the middle of his yard before reaching the gate. Ouch.
Moreover, the more you think about what you’re doing in the moment compared to most people in the surrounding area, or even the world, the more hilarious it becomes.
As Karlos dictates, all paved roads must end. And just as we were enjoying the gentle rolling hills of the forest before Minneola, the route had us take a grass track forking off of the main road. This trail took us to the side of a major road (with bike lanes I might add). Except, between us and the road was a barbed wire fence. “Classic Karlos,” we thought. No matter, we’d just huck our bikes over with one of us on each side of the fence. This is when we really felt the potatoes on Joshua’s bike. Crossing the major road, we took a sandy sluggish road that went up and down for miles; it also ended with a fence. For these types of routes, I’ve found that it is best to just take these events in stride. Moreover, the more you think about what you’re doing in the moment compared to most people in the surrounding area, or even the world, the more hilarious it becomes.
Aside from the beautiful sunset over the lake, riding into Minneola after the fence-hopping was pretty uneventful. There were several greenway trails we took through town, which was comforting as it was well after nightfall by this point. We hit up a 7-Eleven about two blocks from our “campsite”, and we restocked on food and the precious elixir that is milk. Our campsite required some bushwacking to get to, but sure enough there was a decent clearing. That night we cooked up some well-deserved fingerling potatoes with sausage, onion, bell peppers, and entire block of pepperjack cheese. Joshua’s bike lost a LOT of weight.
Day 3
While packing up, Joshua told me about a random guy that had strolled through our campsite at around 3am. Not the most comforting thing, but nothing was gone; the guy was probably more surprised at us than we were of him. However, I might think twice before camping alone in a random park so close to homes again.
The previous day’s rain had brought in a cold front--this morning was chilly, but fortunately we had found Florida’s hills. There we also found Florida’s cyclists. Hills were a nice change of pace as before the flat terrain had provided no opportunities for coasting. We chanced upon a peloton, and Joshua even managed to draft off of them for a brief minute.
Finally! The moment that I had been waiting for had finally come. We were now near Lake Apopka, which I had been told was full to the brim with gators. I came in expecting us to encounter one on the trail, but we only ended up seeing two. But perhaps we weren’t looking closely enough as we rode.
No matter, we ended up finding ourselves in the middle of a gravel race heading the wrong direction. Joshua kept shouting words of encouragement to the oncoming riders as we pacelined. At the end, we actually crossed a literal finish line, but we knew we had a while left to go before we reached ours.
We had covered a lot of ground up until this point, as we had really only been on asphalt or gravel. But the pace also left us craving a decent meal. Luckily, we found a Dairy Queen nearby. The stoke for blizzards was high. I got my usual, a large blizzard and the chicken plate with an extra chicken plate for the road. We were pretty satisfied.
But the antics were not yet over. Karlos had some surprises in mind for us.
The transition from suburbia into wilderness was surprisingly quick as we entered Wekiwa Springs State Park. One of the big stream crossings was ahead; in fact, it was the only one marked on the map. We started out on smooth and flowy single track that turned into slow going double track with mud pits. But soon we reached the crossing. From our side it was pretty unclear as to where to go--clearly this crossing was actually an entrance for canoe campers. But we forged ahead with the water rising waist deep. After some bushwacking on the other side, we found dry land. But the antics were not yet over. Karlos had some surprises in mind for us.
The next miles were sand, but fortunately there was solid grassy ground on either side of the road to minimize the amount of sand crawling. But what awaited us next was even better: underwater and overgrown single track. Most of it was rideable, but it sure didn’t look like it was. Along the way we startled a couple bears in the Saw Palmettos, causing a cub to climb a tree. I had never seen this before and can definitely say that outrunning or outclimbing a bear is a fruitless effort. The bears here though were pushovers--one yell, and they’d run far away.
My 50 degree sleeping bag plus down jacket wasn’t quite cutting it, and Joshua’s hammock wasn’t doing him any favors in keeping warm either.
Darkness set in as we reached our final resupply point of the route in Paisley. We would later owe our gratitude to Cabe for warning us via text against skipping what would be the only convenience store for the next fifty miles. Refueled, we set off with all of our layers on. It was getting really cold as night fell. The first major segment was all single track, but it was incredibly flowy, and we breezed through it. The last stretch was dirt with the occasional sand pit. We were really feeling it at this point. Tired and cold, we found a campsite next to the Florida Trail and made some more quesadillas. It was our last night in Florida, but it was incredibly cold. My 50 degree sleeping bag plus down jacket wasn’t quite cutting it, and Joshua’s hammock wasn’t doing him any favors in keeping him warm either.
Day 4
It was cold. We were debating delaying our wakeup time, but we had to get back to the car on time. Putting on our wet socks and shoes was a sad event when it was just below freezing, but there was not much else we could do. I wanted to get on the bikes as fast as possible to build up body heat. This morning was particularly beautiful though. We passed fog covered lakes and headed down a rolling dirt road. The legs were particularly feeling it that day.
One thing that we had been wondering for a while was what the electronic warfare zone on the map was. We found out that day that it was a bomb testing center, and the Huracan 300 circumnavigates the perimeter of it. As we biked along, we found a lot of humor in the various signs they had posted.
It was amazing how much variety in both single track and surrounding terrain we found on this. It switched from jungle to grass clearing to replanted forest with no transition time in between.
There’s not too much to say of the last section going back to the car. It was a mix of more greenway and single track. We went through Santos Mountain Bike Trails, the actual starting point for the Huracan 300, and proceeded to finish out our trip with some smooth single track. I really started to find my groove in this section and we were speeding through it. It was amazing how much variety in both single track and surrounding terrain we found on this. It switched from jungle to grass clearing to replanted forest with no transition time in between. There were a couple cool technical features as well. Finally, we reached our exit for the Shangri La Campground parking lot.
We took a shower before leaving and stopped at the first Chick-fil-a we saw. The drive back to Atlanta would be a long one, but we had done the Huracan 300. Maybe not in our initially desired time goal, but we had gotten to finish this route.
Final Thoughts
Overall, it’ll probably be awhile before I head back to Florida; I’m more at home with Georgia’s elevation and solid terrain. But, this route was truly special in its own hellish way. Fortunately, we had no major mechanicals or injuries. We did return to Atlanta sore and sunburnt, though. Not too bad, Karlos. Not too bad.
Reid Passmore is a guest blogger here. He’s a PhD student at the Georgia Institute of Technology studying bicycle and pedestrian transportation engineering. He’s an avid bikepacker and underbiker, and you can likely find him riding urban mountain biking trails in Atlanta. Last year, he did the Tour Divide route and raced in the TNGA.
Reid’s other adventures can be followed via Instagram @reidpassmore